Dark Side of the Moon
by NikoArtagnan
Summary: It's not exactly a fan girl's dream come true...In which a young woman from our world deals with pirates, terrifying powers, vicious killers out for her head, an unexpected lineage, a steadily fracturing psyche, psychotic half-siblings, amorous weirdos, and being the key pawn in the centuries-old battle between supernatural forces.
1. Chapter 1

_I am going to die._

Eli felt rather calm about it, even as that thought entered her mind. The ground was hard and cracked beneath her shredded feet, though that pain was as distant as the jeers and roars emanating from the stands towering around her. It was all a blur, except the...thing...that stood before her. It looked like a Minotaur, only three times the ordinary size, with an double-headed axe twice her height casually held in one meaty fist. His eyes were red as blood, and his breath stank like brimstone and death.

She smelled horrible things she couldn't put a name to and felt her soul die just a little bit more.

_(Dark eyes stared up at her, full of pain and horror, and she couldn't move even as he disappeared under countless clawed fingers and mouths cackling and smeared with blood and she screamed and screamed and screamed, pleading, begging, and he had been torn apart, with that Bitch's hand in her hair, whispering-weakyoucallyourselfademoni'llteachyouwh atitreallymeans-)_

But she didn't feel fear. Just tiredness.

_I am going to die,_ she thought idly.

The monster lunged, almost in slow motion. It was pathetic, really. Despite her being so tired and injured, even this beast - what had the Bitch called him? Her General? - he couldn't even begin to hoope to match her. She swung back, dancing over the ground like an ice-skater over ice, not even flinching as the axe swung down each time, seeming to barely missing her by inches. The axe stuck in the ground, and she called up a spell, quick and simple - all the spells were that way these days, and she never even had to try to find the magic that boiled underneath her skin, it was all so simple nowadays - to trap the axe in the dirt. The monster roared, trying in vain to tug his weapon out from the dirt. He had never let go of the axe's handle.

The thing would die for that mistake.

She knew she hadn't been taken seriously by anyone since the beginning of this tournament. Even her brother hadn't believed she could do what she had claimed, after he had come for her and held her in his arms after the Bitch had left. But this victory would cement her position as a serious contender. And she knew she would win.

_(Pairs of warm, warm arms wrapped around her and she laid her cheek on a black, downy head and smiled sleepily as her pack used her body as a pillow, her treasues were with her and everything was perfect in her world, the smell of the sea in her nose and the gentle sun on her face)_

There was nothing she wanted more in the world. And then she would show the Bitch what happened when you pissed her off.

She raced up the axe's handle, spells weaving themselves into existence in her mind, trickling out her ears and mouth and eyes to curl around her fists. Undoubtedly she would die, if not now, then probably after the tournament's end. She didn't care, even as she sang the words of the spell in a half whisper.

"I am the shadow that covers the your moon...I am the fog that blurs your sight...I am the nightmare waiting in your dreams...I am the rage that incites your wars..."

Those red eyes widened and finally the idiot let go of the handle but she was already in the air. She held her hands out before her and closed them around a long, black staff.

"I am the messenger..."

She swung the immense scythe, hearing it whistle as it cut through the air, and smiled coldly at the fear in the Minotaur's eyes. Blood and gore went everywhere as she landed on the ground, and two immense objects crashed to the ground. Dead silence reigned in the stadium as she straightened up from her crouch, resting the immmense scythe she now carried across her shoulders.

Turning to the immense throne the Bitch sat frozen in, she pointed a single finger at the Bitch even as the severed halves of her General burst into flame, and said the last part of the spell.

"...of your death."

The Bitch's eyes were so wide, with shock. And terror, she noted with demented glee. She smiled and spoke even louder this time, so everyone in the deathly quiet stadium would hear her words.

"Am I demon enough for you now, Onee-chan?" She laughed, swinging the scythe in a lazy circle. No one could doubt that now, now that she wielded the scythe of Azrael. The weapon of her father, the previous King.

The referee finally got off his ass to yell, "WINNER, EON!" and the stadium erupted with cheers, and roars of approval.

She walked out of the arena, bypassing the mound of gore and muck that had once been her opponent. Her brother was waiting, and he too, was smiling.

I am going to die, she thought coldly. But not during this tournament. And not before I've avenged myself and my crew.

_(They were all dead and dying over and over and over, screaming and howling in agony, she was covered in blood and she couldn't get to them, twisting and shouting and yanking on her restraints until they were bloody and she couldn't breathe from the grief or see from the tears but their screams would haunt her nightmares and daytimes and in __**every waking moment**__)_

_I'll paint this whole world in blood. I'll kill them all when this is done. Then I will join my crew._

It was a decidedly pleasing thought.

As she followed her brother, one could see a very interesting wound, still sluggishly bleeding, on her back, amidst the ruins of her shirt. Someone had carved a skull and crossbones, and the words "YOU FAILED THEM". The skull was wearing a straw hat.

That wound never stopped bleeding no matter she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One** - _There's A Reason You Don't Talk To Strangers_

* * *

Elijah Isabella De Marco was many things. Bored, disgusted, and angry were just a few of those many things.

The cause of her annoyance was currently sitting across from her, chattering on about the current fashions, and the high class people she had met just week, and didn't Bella know that she'd just met George Clooney yesterday? And it was all so amazing and, and, _sparklicious_.

Elijah, who hated being called Bella with every fiber of her being, twitched visibly. It had only been under extreme duress (as in her parents threatening to take away her computer and halt her lessons) that she had agreed to let her older sister, the De Marco family darling, take her out for a day of "sisterly bonding". Which meant having to deal with a combination of snide fat jokes at the uber posh clothing boutiques she had been dragged kicking and screaming into, and being forced to endure mindless chatter about fashion, hot guys, and current events in Hollywood. Equally enjoyable were the now-ubiquitous comments of how much better her life was and how Eli was a childish, self-centered loser who would never make anything of herself unless she tried her hardest to become a mindless clone of her sister.

So, no, Eli was not a happy camper, and only the enormous ice-cream sundae she was now tucking into kept her from erupting like a volcano. She was normally an even-tempered young woman, but today had been absolutely godawful. And it was _hot_.

Anya De Marco gave her a critical stare and Elijah felt her patience strain. What now?

"So Bella, you know that thing's full of calories and carbs and it's not like you have room to splurge or anything," she commented, wrinkling her nose and curving perfect pink lips into a little mou of distaste. Elijah clung to her patience with all the tenacity of the Kraken clinging to prey. She had put up with this shit for years, couldn't they give her a break for one day?

"My name, Anya," she said in a controlled whisper. "Is Elijah. You may call me Eli if you wish. Do not call me Bella, I despise that name. I would really like you to stop making comments about my weight. I am perfectly healthy and fit and I am also perfectly damn happy with my body. I did not come out here to be insulted. If you continue, I will leave, and I don't care if I have to hitch a ride all the way back home to do it."

But her sister hadn't even heard. Hadn't even been listening. Apparently, halfway through Elijah's rant, her sister had started texting. And talking on her Bluetooth with the bright, airy nonchalance of a person who hadn't heard a single word of what had just been said to her. Elijah felt her patience fray and her vision blur with streaks of red. She had always possessed a fearsome temper when provoked, and this week it had been at its absolute fiercest.

"Screw this," she hissed to herself, trying to find some semblance of sanity before her temper - or mind - snapped and she tried to commit mass murder. She gathered her things into the plain black messenger bag she took with her everywhere and prepared to get up. "See ya, sis," she said.

Her sister looked up at her, all shining blue eyes and flawless Givenchy suit and perfect blonde hair. "Did you say something Bella?"

The red covered her vision and her body was moving on auto-pilot, grabbing the cup with the half-melted remains of her sundae and flinging it with deadly speed and accuracy at the older woman. Then she spun on a heel and trotted away, delighting in the enraged shriek. Her rage was calmed. There would be hell to pay when she got home, but...

"MY HAAAAAAAAAAAIR!"

...it was so damn worth it.

* * *

She sighed, leaning against the wall of the bookstore she had taken refuge in when the sky had decided to open up and dump an ocean's worth of rain on the world.

She was so dead when she got home. So dead. Her cell phone pinged again, but this time she didn't even bother to flip it open, instead powering it off. So Anya had gotten to her parents before she had, huh. (For the past hour and a half she had been getting texts like WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A TALK and YOUNG LADY YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE)

Sometimes she hated her family with a burning passion. Call it teenage angst or whatever, but it felt like they were trying to make her into something she would never, could never be. They had never understood her. They wanted her to be a bubbly cheerleader type like her sister, perfectly successful and beautiful. Or they wanted her to become a sporty type like her younger sister Kate, the school's track star, basketball star, and god knows what else. Or they wanted her to be a social butterfly like they both had been, being the most popular girl in school, going to all the dances, making superficial friendships with equally superficial people, all the while striving for the all-important goal of Prom Queen with her "highschool sweetie", like her Mom had done.

It was all so frustrating. It didn't matter that she was likely to be class valedictorian, that she had singlehandedly taken first place in the National Martial Arts Championships for the past five years, that she had been the lead in several school plays! It never mattered to them. All they saw was the eccentric outcast who could break several wooden planks with her head (something she was utterly proud of thank you very much), enjoyed reading more than dealing with her "peers", adored cartoons and animation, and loved dressing in "goth" clothes.

Her guidance counseler had said that she could go to _Harvard_, while her parents berated her for not being "friendly" to the popular boy that had groped her at school. Perhaps breaking the boy's arm had been a tad extreme, but anyone who dared called her a slut had to be taught a lesson.

She had been bullied for years before she learned to defend herself ("slut" "dyke" "lesbo" being some of the many insults slung her way) and her parents got angry when she finally refused to be bullied!

_"You should try to be friendlier! If you had more friends instead of spending all your time with that minga, you wouldn't be in this situation."_

_"It's __**manga**__, Mom, and I don't like any of the kids at school. Why should I try to be a superficial nitwit just so I can get friends that would just as soon stab me in the back?"_

It had been no use. None of them had ever really paid attention to her protests. She had never really mattered to them. Only the thought that she was different and how awful that was.

Elijah blinked as something landed on her head, obscuring her vision. Blinking, she pulled the towel off her head and stared at it.

"Well, go on then," came an unexpected voice. She looked up from the floor to see an older woman standing in front of her. Elijah swallowed.

The woman was beautiful, with a curvaceous body that belonged to a supermodel, long waves of green black hair, tanned skin, dark emerald eyes, high cheekbones, and full raspberry red lips curved in a kind smile. She also had the most generous...assets...Elijah had seen on any real life woman, _ever_. And years of watching her female relatives go through plastic surgey and augmentation told her that those assets were either the result of the best surgery money could buy, or they were real.

The stunning vision before her brought to mind another reason why Elijah had failed so utterly in her parents' minds - her preference for those of her same gender. She wasn't gay, but she had to admit that most women did appeal more to her than men ever did, or could. And this woman was the definition of appealing.

"Thanks," Elijah said quietly, toweling her soaking wet hair off.

"Come with me. I've got a pot of tea on the stove, and you look like you could use something to warm you up," The woman said, helping Elijah off the floor. "And it would do my floors good not get more water on them."

Elijah flushed, looking at the puddle of rainwater she had left behind. The woman laughed. "It's no problem. I've had worse tracked in here in my years owning this shop."

The woman led Elijah through the maze of bookshelves to a back room. Bundling Elijah in a large towel that had been draped over a small night stand, the woman guided her to a couch directly in front of a large, crackling fire.

"Does Darjeeling tea sound good to you?" She asked, moving out of Eli's line of sight. She heard something being poured, and just as suddenly, a dainty little tea-cup appeared in front of her.

Elijah only nodded and took the cup. "Thanks...Um, I like your bookstore. I didn't know it was even here and I usually know where all the bookstores are around town."

Those lovely green eyes lit with amusement. "A bookstore? Interesting to see it that way..." She took a seat on the large armchair next to the couch.

"So tell me Elijah-kun, what brings you to my...bookstore? You must have been truly desperate to find it."

Eli had never liked telling other people about her life, or her feelings, but this woman had a voice like liquid chocolate and her eyes were so warm and kind that she felt the words tumble out. All of her frustrations and pain and god-this-world-fucking-sucks came out in a rush. To the lady's credit, she never once said a word. Just nodded and listened patiently.

"...and I found my way in here," Elijah finished.

The woman refilled Elijah's teacup, allowing the girl some time to compose herself.

"It looks like you're unhappy," she said. Elijah blinked, wondering. Was she? She had a very good life, though. She had clothes, and books, and a roof over her head, food, and a great education. She would have her pick of Ivy-League caliber schools when she graduated. It wasn't as though she was living in some poverty stricken hell-hole. Her parents had never once laid a hand on her. She wasn't as bad off as some of her classmates were. She had been repeatedly told that her life could be _much_ worse and she knew that...

"...I have a good life..." she said weakly. The woman sighed.

"That's not the point. You don't seem very happy in the life you have. It bores you, makes you angry, and frustrates you. You aren't appreciated by the people who should care for you and you don't have people who can and who will appreciate, love and care for you. Your parents don't love you. None of your family does. You have no true friends. Nothing you do pleases anyone you know and the things you do love are belittled and mocked by just about everyone. You're not happy and quite frankly I don't blame you at all. So, while you have everything you need to keep on surviving, you don't have the things you need to actually live. Does that sound about right?"

Elijah stared. "How the hell did you-"

"Know those things? It's my job dear. So, was I right?"

It was hard for the girl to speak. Something hard and sharp had lodged itself in her throat, and everytime she tried to swallow past it, the pain stung her eyes. Maybe it would be better not to speak. She didn't feel like she was capable of speaking without tears at this point. How was it possible that a stranger she had never met before in her life could get straight to the heart of her life and why she was so dissatisfied with it?

So instead she just nodded sharply, looking into the dregs of her tea. Funny, but she never liked tea before. Especially not Darjeeling.

"What's your name? Your full name, I mean."

"Elijah...Isabella...De Marco."

The woman simply nodded, as though she was expecting that. "It might seem rather off the topic, but I knew a woman and a man once. You resemble them greatly."

Elijah blink-blinked. "What do you mean? ...And wait a minute, just how did you know my name before I told you?" The woman continued talking as though she hadn't heard a word Elijah had said.

"They had a daughter together, but to keep her would have guaranteed her death. So they gave her to me, to make sure she was safe, and to bring her back home when it was time. I think this might be the proper time, no?"

The hair on the back of Elijah's neck stood up as a chill shot down her spine and she finally realized why her mother had always told her never to speak to strangers. This woman was giving her the creeps big time. Promptly she stood up, hauling her bag over her shoulder as she did so. "Thank you for the tea ma'am, but I need to get home. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

She scurried to the door and the creepy woman - who looked really familiar, now that she was thinking about it - didn't make a move to stop her. Elijah threw open the door and took a step...

...straight into open air.

Because the only thing below her feet _(and where the fuck did the rest of the store go oh my God something ate the floor)_ was an endless black abyss that stretched for miles before her.

Elijah thanked her lucky stars that she had been blessed with lightning quick reflexes, and managed to get her hands around the door's frame. For several seconds she teetered, one foot dangling precariously out into space, before she could yank herself back into the room.

But as she turned, suddenly the woman was right there and Elijah staggered back, catching herself just in time to keep from falling. There was something very scary in those lovely green eyes, and something impossibly old. And something sad.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth," The woman whispered. "There is such a long road ahead of you. You will experience things most people would not see in their worst nightmares. Your mind and body will be pushed to the limits and beyond. You will know suffering beyond measure. You will know loss and heartbreak and humiliation. But you will also know love and friendship and the true meaning of family. They will go to the ends of the Earth for you, and you for them.I can only hope they will be enough to safeguard you from the horrors in your future."

"Who-Who the fuck are you?!"

"Goodbye Elijah Isabella De Marco. Good luck." The brutal shove caught Elijah off guard and she was toppling into darkness, screaming and flailing for help that would not come.

The woman sighed as the girl faded into darkness and fell back against the door.

"I'm getting too old for this shit."


End file.
